


It's K-Day. Do You Know Where Your Children Are?

by clockheartedcrocodile



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pre-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 03:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18908281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockheartedcrocodile/pseuds/clockheartedcrocodile
Summary: Newt has been transferred to a different Shatterdome, and Hermann is feeling the loss.This fic can also be found in the Last Line of Defense zine.





	It's K-Day. Do You Know Where Your Children Are?

The Vladivostok Shatterdome is nearly deserted. Everyone’s off-base, or in their rooms, or cranking out an all-nighter to avoid thinking about home. Hermann collects his tray from the mess hall and takes it swiftly back to his room without catching anyone’s eye.

He locks the door behind him via touchscreen and collapses onto the couch. Hermann’s living space is tiny and cramped- the bed is two steps from the couch, and the couch is two steps from the door- but it’s his, and right now Hermann is just happy he doesn’t have to bunk with anyone else. He even has his own bathroom.

Dinner tonight is a wheat roll and a packet of water, with the standard allotment of beef stew. Better than yesterday at least. Hermann unwraps his fork and starts picking at one of the beef strips. And after a moment of miserable chewing he reaches across the room and pulls his blanket off the bed, so he can wrap it around his shoulders and ease the persistent Russian chill. He feels old, and infirm. It’s the ugliest feeling in the world.

 _It’s K-Day,_ Hermann thinks miserably. No point in trying to ignore it.

He should be with family like everyone else. August 10th is supposed to be a day to hold your children close and remind yourself of all you’ve lost. It amounts to an international day of mourning- candlelight vigils, late-night TV specials, flowers scattered into the sea. The Gottlieb siblings are probably home already, far inland. Getting ready for the big K-Day family dinner. Hermann spears a piece of carrot with more than his usual ferocity and eats without tasting it.

He wonders if Newt is alone on K-Day too. Goodness knows there’s no reason for him to be. Newt’s father had no reason to hate him, and while Newt has never been overly fond of his mother, she has nonetheless found a sudden enthusiasm for motherhood now that her son has graced the cover of National Geographic.

Newt is probably off-base, dining out at some beachside Australian burger shack just opening for tourist season. It would be irresponsible for Hermann to call him. Moreover, it would be like admitting some sort of weakness.

Hermann balances his tray on one arm and starts digging around in his coat pocket for his phone. It starts vibrating the moment he finds it, and, confused, he checks the caller ID.

_> Kaiju Groupie <_

Incredulous, Hermann sets his tray aside and stands up to connect his phone to the touchscreen by the door. He waits for the light to turn green, and when it does, he clicks _Answer._

 _“Hey Herm!”_ says Newt, cutting Hermann off before he can talk. His voice is magnified from every direction in full surround sound. It feels surreally like Newt is part of the Shatterdome itself. _“It’s like nine o’clock over there, right? Are you having dinner?”_

“I was attempting to,” says Hermann, as he sits back down on the couch and picks up his tray, “until you blundered in, disrupting my evening. Honestly, Newton.”

_“Alone on K-Day too, huh?”_

Hermann doesn’t dignify that with a reply. Newt knows the state of Hermann’s personal life as well as anyone. For better or for worse, all he’s got is his lab partner. Not even that anymore, now that they’ve been transferred to different Shatterdomes.

 _“I figured I’d take dinner back to my room today,”_ Newt continues, mouth full, chewing. Hermann can hear footsteps on metal and pictures Newt pacing the floor, his phone wedged between ear and shoulder as he eats. _“Thought I’d talk to you, just to keep the line busy in case Mom calls.”_

Newt sounds a little tipsy, and Hermann wonders idly how he’d gotten a drink. Rationing is in full effect, and even cheap bottles will take a decent bite out of a paycheck. “I don’t suppose the food down there is any more palatable?”

_“Tuna today, tuna yesterday. Probably tuna tomorrow.”_

“This beef stew is atrocious.”

_“Dude, I would sell my soul for beef stew right about now. How’s Vladivostok?”_

Hermann snorts. “Cold. Cramped. Ruthlessly efficient.”

_“You love it, don’t you.”_

Hermann shakes his head, then reminds himself that Newt can’t see him. He carefully sets his tray on the floor by the couch so he can ease his legs up and lie on his back. “I can see my breath every morning when I get out of bed.”

 _“Hey,”_ says Newt, and there’s an edge to his voice now. _“Have you complained to HR yet? About the handrail?”_

Hermann sighs. “Newton, it’s a bloody miracle they’ve given me my own room, let alone my own shower.”

 _“Herm, you, you,”_ Newt stammers, and Hermann can just imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes screwed shut as he thinks. _“You’re like, a big deal, alright? They can’t just, they can’t just juggle you between Shatterdomes and not make accommodations for you! You need a handrail in the shower! Just complain to HR!”_

“Carol isn’t answering her phone.”

_“You complained about me every day when we shared a lab!”_

“And when we share a lab again,” Hermann sniffed, “I will continue to complain. But I refuse to inconvenience anyone in HR for so minor a misstep. Some of us don’t want to be a bother, not that you’d understand such a thing.”

_“I swear, dude, if I was there I’d, I’d march my way down to HR and knock on that door and demand they do literally the bare minimum to accommodate you. It’s not that hard! I could put up a handrail in my sleep!”_

Hermann rolls his eyes skyward. “Newton, for God’s sake, I am not made of glass. Tell me more about Sydney.”

Newt, still muttering about HR, reluctantly turns the conversation to the Sydney Shatterdome. Apparently they’ve been having him give tours to visiting school groups in addition to his other duties. The mental image of Newt explaining K-Science to a pack of nine-year-olds is incredibly pleasing.

Newt speaks with a kind of relentless enthusiasm that makes his voice run the gamut from shrill and petulant to warm and bright. It was only after they’d been transferred, Newt to Sydney and Hermann to Vladivostok, that Hermann realized how much he had relied on that voice to be a part of his daily routine.

The door is locked and no one can see him. Hermann is alone with Newt’s voice, so he wraps his blanket tighter around himself and snuggles down into the couch, careful to lie on his good side. He turns his face against the armrest and lets Newt’s voice fill his head, drowning out the world. If he tucks the blanket against himself just so, and lets his eyes fall closed, he can imagine it feels like Newt’s arm against his chest.

Not that Hermann would dare ask Newt to touch him. Newt might do it.

“I hope you’re happy in Sydney,” Hermann says after a moment.

Silence on the other end of the line. Then, _“It’s been quiet, man. No one talks to me much. Not that anyone talks much at all, but. You know. The work, and the war.”_

“The work, and the war,” Hermann repeats quietly.

 _“It’s,”_ says Newt, before sputtering into nervous laughter. _“Uh, it’s. Stupid, honestly, but. I think I might start dating again?”_

Hermann makes sure his exasperated sigh is loud enough for Newt to hear.

 _“It’ll be different this time,”_ Newt says, almost coaxingly. Like he wants Hermann’s permission. _“Really. I met this guy, one of the engineers working on Vulcan Specter, and I like him. I do.”_

Newt falls silent again. Hermann wonders if he’s waiting for a response, but all he can think about is the inevitable late-night drunk dial he can expect in a few weeks time, and the messy heartbreak he’ll be expected to clean up.

 _You’re vain, and desperate,_ he thinks. _You’ll get hurt. And here I am, over five thousand miles away, and I’ll have to pick up the pieces._

He doesn’t say any of that out loud.

 _“Hey,”_ Newt says quietly, when it becomes clear that Hermann won’t be responding. _“Come on. I need . . . I miss that human connection, dude. I don’t get a lot of that these days. I just want to touch something that isn’t dead.”_

“I know how you feel,” Hermann murmurs.

 _“It’s gonna be good this time,”_ says Newt, sounding doubtful. _“You’ll see. When are we getting transferred back together?”_

“What makes you so sure that will happen?”

 _“It has to,”_ Newt says firmly. _“It has to.”_

Hermann is glad Newt can’t see his face. “Well. Let us hope it happens before the end of the world.”


End file.
